


be home with you

by dev0n



Series: killing strangers [2]
Category: John Wick (Movies), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, John Wick: Chapter 3 ─ Parabellum, John Wick: Chapter 3 ─ Parabellum Spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 04:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18865495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dev0n/pseuds/dev0n
Summary: Frank closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "You sure you don't want a hand?""I could never ask that of you.""You ain't askin'. I'm offerin'.""Thank you, Frank. But this is my battle." Frank knew that would be John's response, but he had to give it a shot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I HAD A LOT OF FEELINGS AFTER PARABELLUM. obviously the timeline is stretched a lot for john wick; i wasn't gonna throw a boyfriend at him like a week after his wife died, and besides, these two are stubborn bastards. frank is just... kind of there. this will also make a lot more sense if you read the first fic.
> 
> as usual, not proofread because i am a bastard. title from in a week by hozier.

Before they started having sex, it wasn't unusual for Frank to go a few weeks without seeing or hearing from John. But then they start sleeping together a couple times a week, and when a week goes by without Frank hearing anything from him... He maybe, possibly, sort of, kind of starts to worry. He hears about the explosion out at John's house, hears he escaped, and goes to check it out; he tries calling John again, but the call goes straight to voicemail.

_He's fine,_ Frank sternly tells the panicky voice in the back of his mind. _Why do I care, anyway?_

It's a few days after that when Frank finally hears from John. He almost doesn't answer the phone when he sees the unknown number, but then he hears a voice that's become all too familiar over the past several months. John sounds winded when he says, "Frank?"

"You're alive," Frank says dryly, putting down the gun he'd been cleaning. "You alright?"

"Yeah," John says, but the response sounds canned, automatic. Frank is quiet for a beat. John sighs. "No. I'm about to do something really, really stupid."

Frank swallows audibly. "You can ask me."

"Ask you what?" John asks, sounding genuinely confused.

Frank sighs and drags a hand over his face. "You can ask me to help you. I ain't a part of your underworld, John. They can't─"

"They could still put a contract out on you if they wanted," John interrupts gently. "And they would, if you helped me with this."

"I never said I'd do it. Only that you could ask me," Frank says, followed by a near-hysterical little bark of laughter. "What are you doin', John? What happened?"

"Someone had my marker. That ─ well, it means I owed him a favor. If I didn't do what he asked of me, I'd be excommunicated. Or just killed on the spot." John pauses, sounding as though he's catching his breath. "He made me do something I really didn't wanna do. Kill someone I used to love."

"You're talkin' about D'Antonio, aren't you?" Frank realizes. He may not be a part of John's world, but he has his informants. "He ─ if he knows you're comin' after them, there's no way he's gonna just sit around and wait for it. Unless he's..."

"He's at the Continental. Sacred ground. No business allowed on the premises," John says gently, and Frank's stomach twists. "He'll stay forever if he has to, I expect."

"Don't," Frank says before he can stop himself. "John, they're gonna put out a hit on you. Even I can't protect you from the High Table. You're gonna get yourself killed."

Frank can almost hear the sad smile in John's voice when he replies, "I know."

Frank goes quiet for another few moments. Why did he ever get attached? It was stupid. Careless. And now... "Why did you call me, John?" Frank says finally.

"You know why," John replies, voice going soft in the way it usually only is when they're in bed together. "I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell you I'm going to do everything within my power to make things right. He needs to die, Frank. You know what that's like."

"I know. I know." Frank closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "You sure you don't want a hand?"

"I could never ask that of you."

"You ain't askin'. I'm offerin'."

"Thank you, Frank. But this is my battle." Frank knew that would be John's response, but he had to give it a shot.

"Promise me you'll try," Frank demands.

"Try..?"

"Try to survive this, you prick. Promise."

John is quiet for a second, then sighs. "I promise, Frank. I'll try."

"Okay." Frank clears his throat. "Where's the dog?"

"I was going to leave him with the concierge," John responds. "If you want, you can come get him after... After."

Frank glances to his own dog, considering that. "Yeah. I will. I'll take good care of him." He smiles, stubbornly ignoring the tear that slides down his cheek. "You better make it back safe, alright? 'Cause that poor thing ain't gettin' a name unless he gets it from you."

John laughs a little, but it sounds sad. They both lapse into silence. Finally, John murmurs, "Take care, Frank. Be seeing you."

Frank swallows back the lump in his throat. "You too, John. Be seein' you."

He hangs up before John can hear the way a sob catches in his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

John escapes the city alive, Frank finds out the next day. He's been home with his dog and John's all day, texting all of his sources and telling them to let him know if they hear any news about John Wick. He lets out a quiet breath of relief, scratching the dog's head.

"Your daddy better come back," Frank says gruffly. "Callin' you 'Dog' is gettin' old. You're gonna start thinkin' that's your name." He drops his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. "'Least you an' Max get along well. Just hope you ain't stuck with me too long, huh?" He sighs, cracking his eyes open for a second to give the dog a little smile. "Good boy. C'mon, you guys wanna go for a walk?"

─

When John finally calls Frank again, he sounds the exact same as he did the last time they spoke.

"Frank?"

Frank could cry in relief. As it is, he can't help his stupid grin. "He lives," he says wryly, only half joking.

"He does," John confirms, and Frank is pretty sure he can hear the smile in his voice. He wonders when he learned how to read John so well. "I found a way back. But it's..."

"Dangerous," Frank finishes with a sigh. "You want a hand?"

John actually seems to consider it this time.

"That bad, huh?"

"... I think I'll be fine," John replies finally. "I still have to name that dog. What d'you think about 'Sergei'?"

"Absolutely not," Frank replies immediately, and John laughs.

 

"Okay, okay. I'll keep thinking." There's a beat of silence. "Frank, if this doesn't go as well as I'm hoping─"

"Don't," Frank interrupts. "I'll see you soon. Yeah? I _will._ " Frank finds himself wondering if this is how Karen feels every time he contacts her. God, he hopes not. He should send her flowers, or something.

"I'll try," John says, and it sounds like a promise.

─

On a hunch, Frank finds himself loitering outside of the Continental a few hours later. Sure enough, there seems to be a sudden commotion as people all but flee the building in droves, and Frank watches in silence from across the street, frowning. Not long after the last person exits the building, two sleek black SUVs pull up, and out pour a whole fuckton of soldiers. Frank shifts his weight uncomfortably. The body armor they're wearing is clearly high-quality, as are their weapons, and... And. Frank is almost positive John is in that building.

He growls irritably under his breath and stalks around the side of the building. It's not left unguarded, after all; a few of the people split apart from the main group to man the exits. Altogether, it's not that hard to sneak up behind one of them and stab him in the vulnerable space at the back of his neck.

"You'd better be in here, John," Frank mutters darkly as he drags him off into the nearest alley and strips him of his body armor. The fit is a little loose, but it's good enough, and Frank tugs the helmet on over his face as he quietly joins the rest of the group inside the Continental.

They're already engaged in a firefight, and Frank takes advantage of the distraction, shooting three of the men in the back of the neck before taking cover behind an ugly statue. "Wick?" he calls out. There's silence for a moment. Then:

"Frank?" comes John's voice, quiet. Frank almost can't pinpoint where it's coming from. Almost. He wrenches off his helmet and comes out from behind the statue, hands raised defensively -- though he doesn't drop his gun. He approaches the counter John seems to be hiding behind, diving behind it to join him.

"What the hell'd you do this time?" Frank grumbles, and he can't help it; he kisses John hard, if only for half a second. John seems a little caught off guard, but he doesn't have time to respond even if he wants to. Rather, he just huffs out a quiet, incredulous chuckle. Frank gives him a grim smile, then returns his gaze to the front door, where a second wave of High Table assassins begins to pour in. "Gimme the sitrep, Marine."

─

They survive, of course.

No one still breathing knows Frank was ever there, as far as he can tell, and they decide to keep it that way. He strips out of his body armor and leaves, though he doesn't go far; assuming this parlay goes well, he's supposed to meet John outside.

A few minutes later, Frank hears a single gunshot, followed by a series of thuds coming from just around the corner.

Frank peers around cautiously, and immediately recognizes the limp form on the ground as John's. He looks up, rage and worry warring within him for a few seconds as he sees someone peek over the roof's edge. But the worry wins out, and as soon as the person is gone, Frank rushes to John's side.

He's still alive.

"You son of a bitch," Frank laughs, half-hysterical. "Fuck. I need─"

"Psst." Frank looks up. One of the city's many homeless is drawing closer. "We don't have much time, man. I was told to bring Wick to the boss if he survived."

"The boss?" Frank repeats, scowling.

The man looks around. "The Bowery King," he whispers, and Frank rolls his eyes, irritated.

"Does he want John dead?" he asks impatiently.

The man shrugs. "I dunno. Don't think so." He nods toward the Continental. "I need to take him now if he's gonna survive the High Table, in any case." The main pauses, squinting at Frank suddenly. "Hey, do I know you?"

"No," Frank snaps, lifting John with some difficulty. He sets him in the man's shopping cart with a grunt. "Lead the way, then."

The man eyes Frank apprehensively. "He didn't say anything about─"

"Where he goes, I go," Frank interrupts firmly. "Lead the goddamn way."

After another second or two, the man sighs. "Fine," he mutters, and starts to walk, pushing John down the alley at a pace Frank almost struggles to keep up with.


	3. Chapter 3

The Bowery King recognizes Frank immediately, of course, and tenses the moment he walks up alongside John and the man pushing the cart. When the homeless man makes to dump John unceremoniously out of his cart, Frank stops him with a firm hand on the edge of the cart and a glower that could melt steel.

"Would anybody care to explain to me why Frank Castle is in my domain?" the Bowery King asks.

Frank sighs. "Don't get your panties in a twist. We're only here because I thought you might be able to help him." The Bowery King laughs. Frank levels him with a glare. "Can you help him, or not? I just got outta a firefight. I ain't itching to get into another one anytime soon."

"Why should you care about John goddamn Wick?" the Bowery King asks.

 

"None of your business," Frank replies coolly.

"Ah, I see." The Bowery King smirks. "So it's like that." Frank's trigger finger twitches.

"Can you help him, or not?" Frank demands.

The Bowery King eyes him for a moment. "I'll see what I can do," he says finally.

─

When John jolts awake, Frank is half asleep in a folding chair beside his cot. Given that he's holding John's hand in one of his own, though, Frank jolts fully awake at the same time, and reaches out to gently press down on John's shoulders. "You're okay," he says softly. "Or. Well. As okay as you can be, I guess."

"Where are we?" John asks, voice rough. Frank uncaps a bottle of water that's sitting on the nightstand nearby and offers it to John, who mutters his thanks as he takes a drink.

"The Bowery King took you in. Whoever the fuck that is."

John's brow furrows. "Why?" he asks. "He's sworn to the high table. If we walked into a trap─"

"You didn't _walk_ anywhere," Frank snorts. "You got rolled here in a shopping cart. And best as I can tell, he, uh... Defected. I think he intends to wage some kinda war. Wants your support." He scratches at the back of his neck. "This all could've been avoided, y'know."

John shakes his head slowly, setting aside the water bottle. "I don't know that it could have. Delayed, maybe, if I didn't kill Santiago D'Antonio. But something would have happened eventually." He looks away. "I never should have let you get involved."

Frank laughs outright at that. "You didn't _let_ me do anything. We both knew who we were sleepin' with when this started. Maybe the..." He hesitates. "... _Attachment_ came as more of a surprise, but. Even so. We know each other, John."

John looks back at Frank, his usual unreadable expression on his face. Then he sighs and reaches up to brush hair out of his face. "Thank you. You... I don't know if I would have made it out of there if it weren't for you."

Frank shrugs. "Guess you grew on me, Wick. Trust me, you wouldn't have been my first pick. But my dog likes yours, so I guess you're stuck with me now."

John laughs quietly. "I think I have a name for him now," he says. "How about Misha?"

Frank considers that for a moment, then nods slowly. "Better than Sergei," he says. Then: "What the hell happened to your finger?"

"Proving your loyalty has a cost," John says, shrugging his good shoulder.

"Let me get this clear," Frank says slowly, taking John's hand again. "You lost a finger... Just to prove you were loyal to someone you stabbed in the back like, two days later?"

John pauses. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Frank snorts, raising John's hand to his mouth and pressing a light kiss to the base of his lost finger. Then he leans in to kiss John on the mouth just as gently.

Someone behind him clears his throat after a few seconds, and Frank pulls back, scowling in annoyance. The Bowery King stands behind him, leaning on his cane. "Mr. Wick, if I could have a moment?"

John looks between the King and Frank. "Whatever you have to say... He's in this with me now," he says finally. The Bowery King glances to Frank in mild disbelief.

"The Punisher?"

"The Punisher," Frank repeats.

"God help us all," the Bowery King mutters, pulling up another folding chair. "Whatever. Keep him on a leash, Wick, or we'll have to put him down." He gives Frank a pleasant smile; Frank just glowers in response.

"Give us the pitch already," Frank says impatiently. As the Bowery King finally starts to speak, John gives Frank's hand a little squeeze without looking. For just a moment, Frank's lips twitch into something that's close to a smile.


End file.
